


Australian Pride

by amproof



Series: Hugh PicFic [3]
Category: Australian Actor RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-28
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amproof/pseuds/amproof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not just pride.  It's Australian pride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Australian Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the the Hugh picfic series I did, in which stories are inspired by photos. Pictures are at the end of the story.

  
"You're not serious?" Hugh says. He stands beside the pool, arms crossed firmly over his terrycloth robed chest. When the photographer simply looks at him serenely, Hugh tries again. "You're not fucking serious?"

"It's for the summer issue, Hugh. In and out. You won't even notice it."

Hugh glares at the water. "It's the dead of winter, mate. I'm going to notice the chill!"

The photographer's eyes roll upwards. "The theme of the issue is 'fun in the water'. And so, we need you *in* the water."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not about to risk getting pneumonia just to make a few editors happy...What are you doing?" Hugh watches, stunned, as the photographer shucks his shirt and pants. In the space of four seconds, he is standing in red skivvies in front of Hugh.

"Would it help if I did it first?" He stands on the edge of the pool, chubby toes curling over the textured concrete. His white belly hangs, large and round, over his underwear.

"You're crazy, mate." Despite himself, Hugh laughs. The photographer grins back at him. "You have no idea what I'll do for a good picture. So, you'll do it if I do?"

Hugh looks again at the crystal water. He holds the top of his white robe closed with one hand. The wind spits, harsh and biting, into his ears. "Idiot!" It seems to whisper. "How could you go to a photo shoot where you were handed a pair of shorts and pointed towards a pool and *not* think you were going to get wet?" He shakes his head and fixes the photographer with another smile of disbelief. "Yeah, mate. If you're man enough, I am."

The photographer cannonballs into the water. Hugh flinches as cold droplets hit his face. He considers backing out, but the idea shrivels away as he imagines telling his friends about it. ("That photographer jumped right in, but I didn't. I'm not as mad as he is!") His friends would dive naked into lakes filled with ice chunks. He would have to lie and tell them that he actually dove in (as it is even if he does do it, he will have to add how *cheerful* and *gung ho* he was about it), and when the magazine comes out with no pictures of him in the water...he will never hear the end of it. That settles it for him. He has to do it to preserve his integrity as an Australian. Besides, he is not one to go back on his word, and the sight of the shivering photographer rocking himself out of the pool like a stuffed walrus is guilt-inducing enough to convince Hugh that if he doesn't do it today, he'll be calling the guy in a week to sheepishly ask, "Er, is that pool still available? I'm up for a swim now if you've got your camera," which is as close to an accidental come-on as he's ever given a man.

"All right now?" The photographer asks. He is standing a foot from Hugh, dripping. He rubs his arms briskly. Hugh takes in the man's blue lips. He removes his robe and hands it to him.

"You better put this on." Hugh claps his hands like a one-man pep rally and steps to the edge. He can hear the photographer tying himself into the robe. Then there is the scraping of equipment being moved into position.

"Whenever you're ready, Hugh." The voice behind him is all professionalism now.

Hugh forbids himself another consideration of the freezing water. He dives into it. His long body cuts beneath the surface like a weapon against the water. He shoots directly to the bottom and swims there for several seconds. His eyes force themselves open. He rolls onto his back. He can just make out the photographer's blurred figure leaning over the pool nine feet above him. The shock of water is wearing off, and the chill is seeping beneath his skin, becoming part of him. He knows that when he emerges, they will separate, himself from the cold, and he will feel it again. It is enough to entice him to hold his breath a few seconds longer. He will hold onto this fleeting comfort as long as he can.

Too soon, his lungs betray him. He squats and lunges off from the bottom. His mouth is open as he reaches the top. His lungs scream and grab for the air. His eyes flame, and he sees nothing but blue droplets and a white blazing sun. The cold separates and then attacks him. His shoulders become its pin cushion. His purpling lips are its repository. He can vaguely hear the whirring of the camera mixed in with the roaring water as it escapes his ears.

Gradually, his sight returns. The photographer is restored from a reddish blur to a solid man. "Happy now?" Hugh asks. The words come sharply from his frozen lips. As the camera continues to snap, Hugh decides they were not sharp enough. He slips into a focused glare. He puts his hands on the edge and launches himself out of the water. A production assistant hands him another robe. He hugs it over his shoulders.

"Hope you got what you wanted, mate." Hugh walks off before the photographer can say anything. The next day, the photographer sends him a mixed bouquet and a bottle of cough syrup. Hugh uses the medicine, and gives the flowers to an elderly neighbor.

When the picture is printed three months later, his friends look at his angry, bloodshot eyes and his pale, unnatural skin tone. "Jumped in happily, eh, Jackman," they say.

"Fuck off," he says. It is all he can do. They have caught him in an exaggeration, and he is not likely to live this one down for another six months. He buys a round of beer as his friends pound him on the back and start up another season of good-natured name calling.

The End.

  



End file.
